


Saturday Morning

by TabithaJean



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Breakfast, Episode: s02e20 Humbug, Fluff, Movie Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabithaJean/pseuds/TabithaJean
Summary: Set in season 2, post Humbug. Saturday morning after movie night. Just a bit of Friday Fluff to help us all through lockdown....Honestly, I just like the idea that Mulder has nice things.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Kudos: 38





	Saturday Morning

The heavy woollen blanket woke her: it scratched her chin as she burrowed under her cover. Except it wasn’t her cover, it was a coarse wool blanket which smelled like Mulder. She moved her head and recognised her favourite cushion, the red one which moulded to her cheek like putty, and she was greeted by an audience of empty beer bottles standing to attention on the coffee tables as she opened her eyes. 

Scully sat up, the blanket falling from her shoulders, and ran her fingers through her hair. It seemed to sit smoothly, but she wasn’t sure if her bangs were playing along. She felt hot and embarrassed: she hadn't intended to spend the night, and should have gotten a cab home. She remembered Mulder putting another movie in the VCR: Demolition Man. She was impressed that he owned such a recent release. _Hey, I know what the kids are into these days,_ he teased, and she held her bottle out to cheers him. She watched Wesley Snipes escape from his parole meeting, and the last thing she remembered was resting her eyes just for a moment. 

Mulder had been inspired after their last case and had invited her over to watch _Jules Verne’s Rocket to the Moon_ , featuring none other than PT Barnum. Scully had almost refused, having had her fill of illusions and circus tricks for the week - hell, for the decade - but the thought of another Friday evening folding her laundry was definitely _less_ appealing than spending the evening with Mulder, even if it did involve watching a random film she’d never heard of. Her choice was affirmed when she walked through his door and smelled Chinese food. 

She gathered the empties from their shared six pack and cursed as they skittered away from her grasp, crashing to the floor in a cacophony. She heard him stir, but as she passed the bedroom, she saw he wasn’t awake. His bedside clock read 7am. She took in the sight of him splayed across his bed like a child who had fallen asleep on the floor in the middle of playing, leg out of the covers, pillow over his head. He was so still in sleep, so different to the constant motion of his conscious hours. Her head was sluggish, and she was suddenly tempted to creep under his pile of quilts and rest against him. She knew him by now. She knew what it felt like to rest her head on his arm, what he would smell like, and she knew from the rhythm of his breathing that he was so sound asleep that he wouldn’t even feel her. She could just do it. She could. 

In the kitchen, she found some bacon and turned on the stove. The smoky smell filled the apartment and eventually lured him out like a bear after hibernation, wrapped in his bed cover, hair sticking up at odd ends. 

‘Whatcha making?’ he asked. She swatted him with a tea towel as he drank orange juice straight from the carton. 

‘Breakfast, what does it look like?’

‘Haha.’ He offered her the carton. She paused – it was a more intimate gesture than usual – and took it. The juice was fresh: sweet and without preservatives. 

‘Mulder, this is good juice!’ She exclaimed, picturing its restorative powers reviving the parts of her which were no longer used to drinking three beers and spending the night on the couch. He raised his eyebrows in indignation. 

‘I have nice things, Scully.’ He took out two plates, and she placed a bacon sandwich on each. ‘I have smoked bacon from the butchers, and fresh juice from the deli. I have fabric softener for my towels. I even have coffee beans in that grinder over there. I’ve been known to be a pretty good host, you know.’

‘I’m not in any doubt, Mulder,’ she smiled, and bit into her sandwich. When she glanced at him, she saw him staring at her with bemusement. ‘What, what is it?’

‘You have sauce on your chin.’

‘I do?’ She grasped awkwardly for her napkin, and her cheeks flushed. ‘Is it gone?’

‘Yeah, you got it.’ His eyes smiled at her as he ate. They finished the meal in silence, the day unfolding before them both like a magic carpet.


End file.
